‘I quite agree with you, Sir Sykes, quite,’ chimed in the doctor, with a bird-like chirrup of acquiescence. ‘The mob, my dear sir, whether in decent coats or in torn fustian, is animated by much the same spirit which caused the Roman amphitheatre to ring with applause as wild beasts and gladiators, pitted against one another in the arena, stained the sand with’——
Here Captain Prodgers came in on tiptoe to say that Jasper was awake and sensible; that he had twice asked if his father had not yet arrived; and that he, Prodgers, had volunteered to make inquiries, and hearing the sound of voices as he passed the half-closed door, had entered. ‘You, Sir Sykes, I have had the pleasure of meeting once before—at Lord Bivalve’s, in Grosvenor Place,’ he said with a bow. ‘Captain Prodgers of the Lancers,’ he added, by way of an introduction. The baronet returned the bow stiffly. He had some recollection of Captain Jack’s jolly face beaming across the Bivalve mahogany; but he felt anything but well disposed towards the owner of Norah Creina and the man who had led his son into the present scrape.
‘A friend of my son’s, I am aware,’ said Sir Sykes half bitterly.
‘And I am afraid, “Save me from my friends,” is the saying just now uppermost in your mind, Sir Sykes,’ returned Captain Prodgers. ‘But I do assure you that, hard hit in the pocket as I have been in this precious business, I’d sooner have lost the double of my bets, than have seen that poor fellow knocked about as he has been. I’m no chicken, and sentiment don’t come natural to me, but I give you my word that had the tumble turned out as bad as I feared it would when first I saw it, I should—never have forgiven, myself, that’s all.’ Having said which, Jack Prodgers mentioned to the doctor that he should be found when required in the coffee-room, and with another bow to Sir Sykes, withdrew. The baronet, guided by Dr Aulfus, entered the darkened room where Jasper lay.
‘Is that you, sir? I thought you would come,’ said the hurt man from the bed, stretching out his feeble hand, and as Sir Sykes took the thin fingers within his own grasp, his anger, smouldering yet, seemed for the moment to die away, chased by the crowd of early recollections that beset his memory. He could remember Jasper as a lisping child, a quick intelligent boy, unduly indulged and pampered it is true, but bold-faced and free-spoken at an age when many a youngster, far nobler in every quality of heart and head, is sheepish and tongue-tied. In those days father and mother had been proud and fond of the boy, and Jasper’s future prosperity had been no unimportant element in Sir Sykes’s schemes and day-dreams.
‘You do not feel much pain now?’ asked the baronet gently.
‘In my arm and head I do,’ said the patient, stirring uneasily.
The doctor, as he adjusted the pillows, smiled hopefully. ‘A very good sign that,’ he whispered to Sir Sykes; ‘better than I had hoped for, after the draught. I think we may pronounce all immediate cause for anxiety to be over.’
‘When can he be moved?’ asked Sir Sykes, in the same cautious tone.
‘To Carbery? I should say, if he goes on as well as he is doing now, to-morrow,’ replied Dr Aulfus. ‘I will write down some instructions, with which it will be well to comply, for it will be some few days at least before he can resume his former habits of life.’